Ham A-yoon
A columbarium.
A woman stood gazing, long and unblinking, at the box that held the ashes.
"...So even after he's dead, Father lives in a place this small."
The voice was hard, as if no feeling had been set into it at all. And yet it sounded, too, like emotion crushed down to the very limit. Light from the room fell across her hair, and the strands rippled gold.
Her name was Ham A-yoon.
The niche was about the size of a school locker. She brushed her fingers over the box of remains as though she felt nothing in particular.
"Pathetic."
It had been a long while since Ham A-yoon's father died.
Watching him, she had dreamed of playing the piano, and she had learned it with everything she had. Even so, she held little tenderness for him. His playing had been meager, and he had been poor.
In a life like that, Ham A-yoon herself had been the salt — the one thing of any worth. Looks that shared not a single line with her father's, and a gift that could only have come from heaven. It was only right to call it a miracle sent down from above.
But that was not the reason.
If she felt little for her father, it was not because his piano had been poor, and not because he himself had been poor. It was only this: she still could not understand the words he had given her.
"A-yoon."
"Playing it all the way to the end isn't everything."
"You think you just played well, don't you?"
"You didn't. Not at all."
Ham A-yoon still could not grasp what he had meant. She could not understand, either, why he had never once praised her — he, who had never played as well as she did, who had never won a prize of any kind.
Winner of the Leeds International Piano Competition. First place.
An achievement that belonged to no one but Ham A-yoon. Reaching it had taken blood and sweat. She had always practiced in a rush, as if someone were chasing her from behind, and in the end she had always succeeded. And her father had always scolded her for it.
"A-yoon!"
"You're playing like that again!"
"The way I hear it, it's really no good at all!"
Why?
What did you know — you, whom no one had ever recognized? I reached a height you never could, so why wouldn't you congratulate me? Jealousy, or an inferiority complex. Had it been nothing more pathetic than that?
"Dad. I act now."
Ham A-yoon said it shortly.
As a pianist she had reached the height she wanted, and now she was living a new dream as an actress. She was not like other people, who touched the peak of a single field and then rested for the rest of their lives. She was first-rate. She had to shine, always.
If life was a score, she wanted to fill her own to the margins — all the way to the final bar, with a shining melody. Only then could her life remain a perfect piece of music.
"I'm not like you, Dad. I'll live grandly. I'll live so I sparkle."
That was when it happened.
"A-yoon! A-yoon!"
At her manager's urgent call, Ham A-yoon pulled free of her thoughts.
"Yes. What is it."
A-yoon's Korean was a little clumsy. Her years overseas had been long.
"I'm sorry. I know you're with your father, but this is so urgent! I think I have to tell you right now!"
"Speak calmly. Don't shake."
"It's—!"
The manager spoke with sweat pouring off her.
"Director Go Taemin! You know the role of Kim Sohee in Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo! They're saying they want someone else, not you! The production team's wavering too, so I think we have to go right now!"
"...What?"
Ham A-yoon's brow drew tight.
Golden hair spilling in waves, a face as calm as a work of art — and across it, for the first time, a frown pinched shut. From there to the van, it was a single breathless rush.
Ham A-yoon was the first to speak.
"What is this situation. This."
"I don't know either. Wait — are they doing this to beat your fee down? Does it even make sense, suddenly dragging in some rookie and saying they'll give her Kim Sohee?"
Pretending the competition was fierce in order to hammer down a casting fee. In this industry, it was more common than one might think — an obvious trick, and an effective one. Hear that someone else covets the role you were about to take, and anyone's heart starts to race. You snatch it up, even at a cheap price.
But Ham A-yoon soon shook her head.
"Director Go Taemin. Not that kind of person."
"...Then you're saying this rookie is good enough to push you out? That makes even less sense."
"We go first. Go, and check."
With that, A-yoon rested her head against the window.
In Ham A-yoon's life there had only ever been one goal.
To shine.
She would live a life that shone. She had to.
I have to shine twice as bright as everyone else. I have to be twice as busy.
That was what it meant to be first-rate. Because she refused to live as shabbily as her father had.
In that sense, she had to be in Director Go Taemin's film. He was a master, and the role of Kim Sohee was perfectly suited to the thing she did best — the piano.
"Finishing isn't what matters."
"You think your playing is wonderful, don't you?"
Even now, that voice troubled her from time to time. But Ham A-yoon soon shook her head.
Father. You were wrong.
Unlike you, I am desperate.
Sua arrived at Director Go Taemin's studio.
True to his name as a meticulous master, the space was beautifully kept — less a studio, in truth, than something close to a hall for exhibiting music. Instruments stood here and there, and above all the place was refined.
"...Huh?"
But the shock hit her almost at once, because the scene before her was so utterly unexpected.
The conference room was terribly noisy, and the mood, even at a glance, was nothing good. The proof of it was a woman whose face had gone beet red, a blue ball cap pulled low doing nothing to hide the flush. As the production team of Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo and Director Go Taemin came into view, the woman in the cap — a blonde kept at her back — raised her voice until she was bellowing.
"Director! Wasn't Kim Sohee already confirmed as A-yoon?"
"Please hear me out first."
"No — if it's yes, say yes. If it's no, say no. All you have to do is answer! Wasn't A-yoon supposed to play Kim Sohee? Wasn't this settled ages ago?"
Sua caught on at once. So this A-yoon wants the role of Kim Sohee too?
She and Kim Iseo held their breath and watched, but the people inside the conference room never even noticed them. Things in there were simply moving too fast.
Then, at one moment, Director Go Taemin turned his head as if troubled, and his gaze landed on Sua.
"Ah. Ms. Sua. And CEO Kim."
He let out a heavy sigh and came over.
Kim Iseo asked at once.
"Director, what is this situation?"
"I failed."
"Failed?"
"Yes. In the end I couldn't persuade the people who want Ham A-yoon cast as Kim Sohee. Some have begun to support you, Ms. Sua, but the other side is holding such a hard line..."
Around then, Sua felt it in her bones. So this is why a film isn't something you make alone.
People on the production team were opposing it fiercely, and so even the director could not simply force the matter through. Go Taemin went on, his voice thick with apology.
"They even contacted the parties themselves, which is why those two came straight to the studio. The blonde is Ham A-yoon, and the woman in the cap is her agency manager."
"Was the role of Kim Sohee ever unofficially promised to Ham A-yoon?"
"Certainly not."
Go Taemin shook his head.
"I never expressed an opinion of any kind. A good number of the production staff are simply infatuated with Ham A-yoon, and her side is well aware of that fact. That is all."
"...I see what this is."
Kim Iseo nodded. The director had never given a firm answer, but so many of the production team wanted Ham A-yoon that her side had assured themselves the role would be hers. A common enough thing in the industry.
That was when it happened.
"Who are you talking to? Is that the rookie?"
The woman in the blue ball cap fixed Sua with a sharp glare. Sua studied her face with care. It was already drowned in tremendous anger.
Meanwhile the production staff began to shift. When Sua came back to herself, some had lined up on her side, and others had moved toward Ham A-yoon. By proportion, Ham A-yoon's people were far more numerous.
Sua understood at once. Factions. Those who supported her as the one suited to Kim Sohee, and those who supported Ham A-yoon — that was how they had split.
"...You're going to use a girl like this as Kim Sohee?"
The woman in the cap spoke as if she could hardly believe it.
"Play Savant Syndrome with a face that fierce? Does that make any sense? What — does she have some hidden piano skill, too?"
Sua didn't bother to answer. No — in truth, the misunderstanding felt good. Well, of course. On the outside she looked far too capable, and she looked intelligent besides, so it was only natural they'd think she would struggle to play savant syndrome. The problem was that her level was too high.
…?
Meanwhile the woman in the cap soon lifted the corner of her mouth, tapping the grand piano at the center of the conference room as she did.
"No — actually, this is better."
"Actions over words. Let's settle, right here today, exactly who plays Kim Sohee. It isn't difficult. Hear A-yoon play one more time, and the answer decides itself."
Ham A-yoon gave a quiet nod and sat. And then the piano began.
Ta-da-dan—
Exquisite.
Everyone's impression would have been much the same. The moment the playing started, the woman in the cap folded her arms as if there were nothing left to see — the feeling, already, that the match had been decided by this alone. It took only an instant for the mouths of the production team to fall open.
And yet something was strange.
"..."
Sua's brow drew tight before she knew it. Because in Ham A-yoon's playing, she had felt a flaw. A very, very small one.